


And I'm Left Behind to Pick Up the Pieces

by korben600



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Mandalorian Culture, Mando'a, Past Character Death, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:21:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21984364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/korben600/pseuds/korben600
Summary: During the Siege of Mandalore, Bo-Katan and Obi Wan Kenobi have the unenviable task of liberating a star systems in all of Star Wars from Darth Maul and the Deathwatch. It takes time, effort, and a lot of blasterfire. Many died in the attempt.But might something else be born in the ashes of Mandalore? Something between these two broken hearts?
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Bo-Katan Kryze
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	And I'm Left Behind to Pick Up the Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> Look, there's only like three other fics in the Bo/Obi Wan tag, and let's be fair here, NOTHING is gonna beat Couvade (By Pronker) in sheer awesomeness/creativity. But on the other hand, it's only 9k words long and I was craving MORE. So I decided to make some.
> 
> Don't need to read Couvade to understand this, just wanted to give a shoutout to the inspiration. This fic is still it's own thing, though, and I will be trying to explain everything going on. That being said, if you haven't watched the Mandalore centered episodes of Star Wars: The Clone Wars, you might be a bit lost. 
> 
> I'm hoping to write all the parts I want to before the actual Siege of Mandalore arc is aired on Disney+ but I think we all know that fanfic isn't great at dealing with deadlines. 
> 
> More tags will be added as the story progresses.
> 
> So, hope you enjoy the fic!

Bo’s hand slammed into the table, clanging with the familiar sound of Beskar’gam on durasteel. The woman’s face was contorted in rage, as she scowled at the viewscreen in front of her. 

“This is for the good of _Mandalore_ , dammit!” 

The voice on the other end of the line was a direct contrast to her. Cool, distant, and had a distinct Coruscanti tinge in his accent. But one thing they had in common was their frustration with the other. 

“And I’m thinking for the good of my _clan_. It’s against our best interests to be killed fighting in some proxy war between the Separatists and the Republic.” 

Bo’s knuckles were white inside her armored gauntlets from gripping the end of the table. 

“Ni'duraa, _Echuta_!” She growled at the man, taking a smug bit of satisfaction in the way his face contorted in annoyance before shutting off the communicator. 

She breathed in, and out, savoring her last words before reality sunk in. 

Her hands slowly came up to her head, running through her red hair as she contemplated tearing it out in rage. 

She settled for near-screaming a comprehensive list of every epithet she knows under her breath as she thought of the various ways she could disembowel the patriarch of Clan Saxon. 

But even Mando’a runs out of creative ways to describe someone as some variant of bantha poodoo, and soon she ended up hunched over her table, her elbows digging into the durasteel, while she tried to push her impending migraine out of her brain via her forehead. 

One hand idly came down to the splayed array of pads on her desk, rearranging them left and right. A bleary, sleep deprived eye scanned the various documents and came to the same conclusion she’d had for almost half a month now. 

_We’re losing._

The “Siege of Mandalore” as it was called, was in full swing. Republic troops were deployed every day, to different hot-zones. 

But it wasn’t the Republic that was the issue, much as Bo Katan _despised_ saying it. It was her people.

Mandalore was supposed to be _pacifistic_ now. All of her people were supposed to be fuzzy, tree hugging pacifists who would roll over at the first sight of a gun. 

_After all, that’s what they did when_ **_Vizla_ ** _came in_. Bo thought miserably. 

But _no_ . Her people finally had to grow a kriffing spine, and it wasn’t to stop the egomaniacal alien space wizard from taking over, _no_ , it was to fight their own flesh and blood!

Everywhere the Republic invaded, they’d find a pack of Mandalorians waiting for them, wearing thirty year old armor, and flying jetpacks like a bunch of drunk toddlers. They’d kill more Republic soldiers than she’d frankly think was possible, the clones would annihilate them, because _someone_ on Kamino thought it was a bright idea to give clones Mandalorian training, and then the populace would revolt at the “senseless civilian casualties”, leading to even more Mandalorians coming out of the woodwork to throw sticks and stones at the troopers.

The Republic was _this_ close to just bombing the crap out of those cities, and if she was being really honest, Bo couldn’t entirely blame them. 

The only reason they hadn’t yet was because one of the Jedi Generals in charge of the invasion put his foot down, and adamantly refused carpet bombing them into submission. 

Instead, he proposed that the Republic not to go anywhere without a half and half ratio of Mandalorian fighters to clone troopers, to effectively show that it wasn’t a Republic invasion, but a liberation of Mandalore for truth, justice, and law.

...which was a crying shame because _Bo didn’t have fighters to spare_. 

The Nite Owls, her sect, was a fraction of Deathwatch’s forces, and if she was being completely honest with herself, Deathwatch was never that large to begin with. 

Quality over quantity wasn’t a written rule, but it was definitely an unwritten one, and it worked for them for the longest time. 

But she needed quantity _now_. 

_Satine could’ve done it_ . A traitorous voice in her head said, sounding vaguely like her mother. _She would do all of this in half the time, in half the casualties, in heels._

Another voice, this one sounding much more like herself, responded, morosely. 

_Well,_ **_I’m not Satine_ ** _. The only thing I was ever good at was killing things._

Both voices were silent, and she breathed a sigh of relief as she pinched her nose. 

She looked over the pads again, praying that she’d misread them the first twenty times, before pulling out the most damning one.

A list, of all the clans on Mandalore, 

The list was haphazard and there were markings all over it. Some scribbled out, some renamed, some circled brightly, and some with question marks. 

Clan Saxon’s had a large question mark beside it that Bo quickly erased, before replacing with a large, red X. 

There were a lot of X’s on the list.

Not for the first time, Bo ruminated on how similar this likely was to her sister’s conquest of Mandalore, and quietly cursed herself.

_Damn you Satine, how the hell did you do this..._

“Am I interrupting anything?”

A chipper, teasing question said in the tone of voice one says when finding someone doing something particularly funny and embarrassing, delivered in a Coruscanti accent smoother than silk. If she was some core-chick, she’d probably have thrown herself onto him by the 8th syllable.

“Eat shit, _aruetiise_.” 

But this voice was also single handedly more responsible for her current migraine than _Darth Maul_. Which might be coloring her response slightly, but she didn’t particularly care.

“I beg your pardon?” The jedi said, curiously. 

“You heard what I said, _Kenobi_ .” She said in annoyance, as she gestured to the pads strewn over her desk. “ _This_ , is all _your_ fault.”

“How is this _my_ fault?”

“This ‘a Clone for every Mandalorian’ thing ” She said as she glared at him. 

The jedi, looking weary beyond his years, sighed. 

“...fair enough.” 

“...” The Mandalorian woman was...surprised...to say the least. “Really?”

“What?” Kenobi said quickly. “It is. My idea, my fault.” 

“...what game are you playing?” She said warily. 

The Jedi sighed. 

He stuck out one of the two mugs of caf in his hands, that Bo had only just noticed, gesturing for her to take it. 

She did, and the warm sensation of her first sip did more to calm her nerves than 20 minutes of ruminating on war strategy. 

“...thanks.” 

“You hadn’t left your tent in several days, your men were worrying.” 

She snorted. Her men had seen her take a blaster to the arm last month and hadn’t even bothered to ask if she was alright. 

But a few days of paperwork, and of course, half the camp starts speculating if she’s dead.

“...well, **I** was worrying.” 

Bo’s eyes narrowed at the man, but chose to enjoy the drink instead of follow up.. 

A long silence, broken only by the sound of sipping, ensued. 

“How many Clan’s have signed on?” He said, without preamble. 

Bo froze slightly, and glared at him. 

Either with jedi intuition, or the intuition of a man who’d had _many_ people angry at him for many different reasons, Obi Wan put up his hands in a placating manner.

“I swear, I’m not here on behalf of the Republic. I want to help.” He said quickly. 

“I…” He trailed off. “Have some _experience_ with Mandalorian affairs.” 

Bo rolled her eyes. She was _very_ well aware of that. She and Satine were never close but Deathwatch mission reports were _very_ detailed. Even loyal troopers couldn’t help but talk about the _brave_ Jedi Knight who rescued the _darling_ Duchess in distress when he first visited to foil Vizla's plans. 

Sentimental banthafuckers. 

And it wasn’t that...mostly. 

He was a Jedi General, he was ostensibly one of the people who decided whether or not the Republic would continue this campaign, and handing over the evidence of her progress, or lack thereof, might be a bad idea.

But...something about this Jedi made her trust him. 

Maybe it was the Torgruta Jedi vouching for him. 

Maybe it was his calm, and easy demeanor. 

Maybe he was using a jedi mind trick on her. 

...but she was desperate, and frankly, she could use some jedi voodoo right about now. 

She handed over the holopad with the list of clan names. He began flipping through it, brow furrowing as he went along. 

Bo sighed, taking another sip of caf as she tried to analyze the Jedi’s expression. 

“Well?” She said sarcastically. “The truth, Kenobi. How’re we doing?” Bo was a firm believer in ripping off bandages quickly. If the Republic was pulling out tomorrow, she needed to know.

“...honestly?” He said with a shrug. “Remarkably well.” 

Bo blinked for a second. 

“...what?”

“At this point in the campaign, you’ve recruited far more clans than I expected. Clan Varad, Clan Lok, Clan Ordo, The Protectors of Concord Dawn were a real surprise, I thought they’d never come back to the Mandalorian system again.”

“They’re not.” She says, head swimming with data memorized over the past few days. “They pledged a small force of fighters to assist with fighting pirates, I think they really want to be involved in the Republic’s invasion of Mygeeto, they have claims there.” 

“Still, a good symbolic alliance.” 

Bo thought about all the ways to lose, and all the troops she doesn’t have, and all of the people who said no, and it all boils down to a question-

“How can you say this is _good_ ? We’re outnumbered three to one, even _with_ your Republic’s stupid half-rule.”

Kenobi shrugged. 

“Well, you’re doing better than Satine was at this point in the campaign.”

Bo hasn’t slept in about a day, and hasn’t eaten in far longer than that. She hasn’t fought anything in a week, and hasn’t exercised at _all_ in the past fortnight.

But she has been spending a _lot_ of time with politicians and bureaucrats lately, and she was a _very_ quick learner when it came to the art of reading subtext from speeches designed not to have any. 

The familiarity; the way he used her first name, when everyone else was “my dear” or a title; the casual references to clans-

“You were _here_. The first time, when she united Mandalore.” 

“...yes.” He said wistfully, with not a small hint of sadness. 

She sighed, and pinched her nose. 

“I have literally been asking how Satine did this for _three days_ , **aruetiise**. You didn’t think to mention this?!?”

“I...didn’t think it was relevant?” He said sheepishly. 

The Mandalorian matriarch resisted the urge to smack him in the head. 

_Barely_. 

The Jedi seemed to notice, and chuckled. 

“What would you like to know?”

“ _Everything_.”

* * *

Two long hours later, Bo Katan had not gotten any more rest than she had when she’d started. 

But somehow, the exhaustion felt less pronounced than before. 

The blonde, bearded, jedi was leaving her tent, voice slightly hoarse from reciting all he could remember about the original New Mandalorian conflict. 

He hadn’t given her _everything_ . She could tell parts were missing. Some just because of the passage of time dulling his memory. Others because he just didn’t want her to know. Most of the second were usually based around her sister. But that was a can of worms Bo did _not_ want to get into right now, so she was letting him leave for the night.

“I have some old files and diaries about it if you’d like.” He said casually, and she nodded. 

“Please.” 

As soon as he left, Bo let out a breath she didn’t remember holding, and she slumped in her chair, mulling over the jedi’s words. 

In particular, something stood out, about halfway through the lecture.

“Satine would go out of her way to try to sway clans who weren’t necessarily fighters. She used to say ‘Warrior clans can flip allegiances because of a strong wind, it’s the clans that usually _don’t_ fight that are the strongest allies.’”

The Mandalorian matriarch began typing on her datapads, poring over families and groups she previously overlooked. 

There were a few clans like that. Large-ish, but not militarized. But that didn’t matter since the Republic would help with that anyway. All she needed was quantity...

Bo ruffled through the stack of pads, searching for a particular family she remembered from her days of research, finally finding it under a stack of financial reports. 

They lived in the few forested areas of Mandalore, and were primarily artisans, she’d ignored them at first because they’d been among the first to embrace pacifism. But if she could get them on her side...

She quickly added a name to her list. 

_Clan Wren, huh? Maybe you’ll help…_ She thought ruefully.

Mentally, she reminded herself to thank the jedi. Or at least give him less hard of a time.

_You know, Satine…_ She said wistfully. _Maybe **that’s** how you did it… _

**Author's Note:**

> "Ni'duraa" - "You disgust me!"  
> "Echuta" - (Huttese) Untranslatable scathing invective (Variant in Basic: "Fuck off!")  
> "Aruetiise" - traitors, foreigners, outsiders


End file.
